rip
by starrieroze
Summary: Sequel to the movie Lisa is still recovering from her trauma w/ JR, so her mental health probably took quite the blow when he walks back into her life with a devastating and lethal entrance. Now, they're on the same side, bent on vengeance and anger, and will probably be in love by the end of the story but we'll see. I haven't really planned this out very far.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my 3** **rd** **attempt at a RE fic, so let's see how this one goes. Concrit is helpful and welcome**.

Lisa screamed herself awake again. Her father was above her, stroking her hair and cheeks before she even realized where she was. It was her old bed, she recalled fondly, her fingers grazing the familiar covers. In her childhood room, with her old dolls and books littering the dressers and shelves. She felt like a child again, getting woken up for school, or church…the feeling warmed her heart and almost melted away the icy frost the dream had left behind.

"You're awake, Lees, he's gone, he's gone," her father was trying to soothe her. For his sake, she tried not to flinch at 'Lees'- but to no avail.

"I'm sorry-Lisa…I forgot-"

"Dad. It's okay. You don't have to stop calling me Lees-I've told you that," she mumbled reassuringly. He looked doubtful.

Lisa had spent the last months trying to minimize her trauma, to swallow the pain so that she and she alone would have to bare it. Her parents had been calling her 'Lees' forever. She would not ask them to stop just because now it was a stupid trigger. That would be so unfair. And it would only break her father's heart. Break him and enrage him at the same time.

Only a few weeks ago, she'd overheard him on the phone with presumably her mother.

" _How dare that evil man take away the name I've been calling her since she was born and turn it into something ugly and painful. How dare he take that away from me! How dare he call her that!"_ His voice had been cracked and wobbly, filled with wrath and devastation.

Lisa had been shocked. Her father had never shown any emotion about the incident. He had only doted on her incessantly and been careful never to speak of it unless she brought it up-which she never did. It had been the same way before the Jackson-incident, after the man in the parking lot had assaulted her.

 _Never again,_ she had told herself then. And it had been a lie, but it had let er move on, so that is what she told herself now. _Never again. That was the last time. After that- never again. Never. Again_. 

"I know, honey. But…well, just know that, I _can_ stop-even if I don't _have_ to-I can if it helps. Maybe I could work on not calling you that at least for a little while," he offered.

"Dad, I said-"

"Lisa-I just hate seeing you in pain." _But it would cause_ you _pain_ , she thought.

He seemed to read the unspoken words in her eyes. "Don't you worry about me. I'm fine. It's you who's important, not me. The very _least_ that I could do would be to not call you something that bothers you. It does not hurt me at all, I promise." _But it does._ She could read the unspoken words in _his_ eyes, too.

He had no idea that she had heard the phone call, and she wondered what he might say if she confronted him about it then and there, but she chose not to. She instead changed the subject.

"The least you could do? Dad, come on, you practically let me move back in with you. Don't _you_ ever worry about not doing enough for me. You've done more than enough" She said, plastering a lazy smile onto her lips. After everything, even though her father's house encased the haunting memories of her last moments with Jackson, Lisa simply slept better at night knowing her dad was safe and sound in a room over. Not to say that there wasn't a stab in her stomach every time she ran her hands along the banister of the stairs, or reached out to close or open her bedroom door- or walked over that spot at the foot of the stairs here Jackson's lifeless eyes still seemed to stare up at her.

That was another thing that hurt her father. That the house his daughter had grown up happily and joyously in with her loving parents, the house that was filled with an infinite collection of happy memories spilling out from every room-was now tainted with Jackson's terror, each room that he stepped foot in stomping over those happy memories and replacing them with the nightmares she was greeted with every night.

On the door of her bedroom, in faint pencil markings, her mother had measured and recorded her height each year. But Lisa never thought of that, never noticed the markings, was never filled with warmth of those memories like her father was when he saw that door. Instead, all she saw was Jackson lunging at her from behind it, knife in hand. That fear, all she felt when she neared it.

It really was difficult for her being there, but it was worth the reminders of Jackson, if only to feel safe-and to feel like she could protect her father from whatever dangers may lurk nearby (never mind that her father would most likely be the one doing the protecting out of the two of them.)

Living there was just a temporary arrangement, but Lisa knew her father would allow her to stay forever if she wanted to-would love it, actually. But, touching as it was, Lisa was an adult, and soon she would have to start acting like one again. But she also knew her father would not allow her to leave until the nightmares stopped for good. Which Lisa did not expect to be anytime soon.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her father asked softly. She knew he was referring to the dream. It had started with smiles and wine and pretty blue eyes-and ended with her body being thrust over a banister, with her stomach in knots and her cries choking on the airless freefall. And she remembered that as she fell she could see six people strewn about the floor below, their pale mangled bodies tangled together. Two men, a woman, two children and one beautiful smiling monster.

She fell awake hard, as she did every night, like she'd been dreaming six feet above her bed, her subconscious floating somewhere in the ceiling before consciousness dropped her back onto her bed.

"Talk about what? The dream? Ha, no, I hardly even remember it. How 'bout pancakes for breakfast?" She rolled out of bed and headed downstairs before he had time to respond.

Once her father had moseyed on downstairs, his fluffy robe swaying around his ankles, he stopped in front of her where she leaned against the kitchen counter and took her hand in his.

"Are you doing okay, honey?" He asked her.

"Uh-huh," she answered casually not looking up as she began to prepare the oven.

"Are you sure? Because I'm always here for you-"

"Yeah, I know, Dad," she said too quickly. "I need my other hand," she added as she gently detached it from his.

"But you are okay, really?" He pushed, his eyes gazing softly and sadly at her face, as if trying to decipher her wellbeing through her expression.

Lisa sighed, aggravated. "You gonna start triple-checking now?"

He laughed quietly. "Well, you didn't answer the second time."

"You know you could always just take my word for it the first time," she said, smiling.

"I'm your father. It's my job to double-check." He kissed her brow and sat down at the table, unfolding a newspaper.

"Shall we have a lunch date later today?" He chirped after a few minutes.

"No, sorry, Dad, I already have plans."

Her father made a phony shocked expression. "And who is it that's more important than your father?"

Lisa laughed as she debated making up a name. Her parents had been pestering her about dating for years. Her mother especially, had hoped she would be married long before her grandmother had passed away. But Lisa had long ago decided that she would put her work first in her life. After Noah…after Noah there was really no point in anything. It wasn't like anyone could ever come close to him.

Noah had been her first love. They'd met in high school, and went to the same college, graduated together…they'd even lived together for a few short months. Her parents had been obsessed with him, and they'd been positive that he and Lisa were meant for each other. So had Lisa.

But life changes, and sometimes things happen-

"Lisa?" Her mind snapped away from Noah and back to her father. His eyes were twinkling. "Are you not going to tell me?"

"Oh, sorry. Lost in thought. It just so happens that Cynthia has replaced you for lunch today." She decided not to give her father false hope, even as she watched the light in his eyes die.

"Oh, well. That should be nice." He turned his attention back to his paper.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, you." Cynthia wore a yellow maxi-dress that fell to her ankles, her hair grazing her shoulders. She'd lightly lined her big eyes in black and powdered her cheeks in red.

Meanwhile, Lisa came wearing jeans and the old t-shirt she'd slept in, her hair shoved into a bun.

"Hey…what's the occasion?" She asked before giving her a quick side-hug. Cynthia smiled impishly.

"Okay, so don't be mad, but we're meeting some people," she said sheepishly.

Lisa tried not to look horrified. "What," she croaked.

"Don't worry about it, it's just casual," she began slowly, "but…Jerry had a friend and I just thought-"

"CYNTHIA!" Lisa ran her hands through her hair, becoming increasingly aware of her appearance. "You can't just drop this on me! Also-WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME BEFORE NOW?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't come!" Cynthia whined.

"WHO SAYS I'M GONNA COME NOW?" Lisa shot back.

Cynthia gasped dramatically, her eyes bugging out. "You have to! I can't cancel now!"

"Cynthia, look at what I'm wearing…" she groaned.

"Okay, look, it's okay, I've prepared for this situation. I thought you might show up looking like crap-which is why they aren't meeting us for another hour. Which gives us enough time to fix you up," she took Lisa's hand and led her to the nearest clothing store.

Cynthia paused before the door of the little shop for a few moments to check her reflection in the window. Lisa sighed and looked about, her gaze falling on a stranger about a hundred steps away. He was undeniably a male, back facing her in a nice suit, his brown hair flat and short. Just standing there, as people around him rushed tis way and that. As if there were eyes on the back of his head that were staring her down. She took Cynthia buy the arm and steered her into the store.

She'd had visions of Jackson before. Flashes in her mind when she was triggered by something or someone that brought her back to that day. But recently they'd been happening more and more. She sometimes felt like she couldn't trust her own mind.

"I cannot believe you." Lisa muttered as she stomped into the store, using her current predicament with the blind date as a distraction for her uneasiness. Cynthia was already filing through the clothing racks.

"Your mother can thank me on your wedding day." She retorted. She pulled a green dress of its hanger and held it up in front of Lisa. "Eh?"

Lisa stuck her tongue out-both at the remark and the dress.

Cynthia sighed and put the dress back. "What color do you like?"

"I don't know. I don't care. You don't have to do this-"

"Blue. I think blue would be pretty," She brushed her fingers over the hangers until she found one that made her smile. She plucked it up and held it up. "Wow," she marveled.

Lisa's eyed the dress. Her stomach tightened as she took in the hue. A glassy, light sky blue-the prettiest color in the world, she thought. It reminded her of feral rage and smooth, terrifying dominance. Boring into her.

Not the feeling you'd expect to get from baby blue. She swallowed.

"What? What's wrong, too skimpy? You can wear a sweater," Cynthia argued, trying to read Lisa's face.

"I don't have a sweater," she rasped back.

"Then we'll buy one. Or not. I don't really think it needs one. Sid will like it without," Cynthia said grinning.

Lisa gagged. "He sounds like a real catch."

Cynthia rolled her eyes. "He is. He's nice, smart, _cares about his job_ ," she said with emphasis as if it was his main selling point, "but he's also fun. He's a great combination. And he and Jerry are like, best friends. If things go well tonight, we could be couple friends. _Imagine_ ," she squealed, "we could end up having a _double wedding_!"

"Dear God. Cynthia, you are killing me."

She giggled. "Here just try it on." She chucked the dress into Lisa's arms and shoved her into a changing room. Lisa tugged off her ratty clothes and slipped on the dress quickly. She observed herself in the mirror warily.

Admittedly, she looked good. Really good. The material was loose, but still clung to her nicely, leaving her chest and thighs fairly visible. Still, the color unnerved her.

"I don't like it," she called to Cynthia as she began tugging it off.

"Let me see it first!" Cynthia commanded from the other side of the door. Lisa groaned inwardly and stepped out into the viewing area.

Cynthia's face lit up like a beacon, but all she said was: "you're buying it."


	3. Chapter 3

Lisa had worn the dress out of the store, along with a pair of 1 inch white-heeled sandals, shoved her old clothes into her big purse and let her hair fall out of its bindings. A little thrown together maybe, but a vast improvement. Even if the dress was a little inappropriate-and reminded her of her nightmares.

She walked arm in arm with her pretty friend, and they walked in sync, laughing about the stupid stuff Jerry did.

It was times like these that Lisa felt like a burden-less little girl again. It was times like these when Jackson was completely out of her mind, and, she thought, times when the explosion from the missile in Room 4080 was completely out of Cynthia's mind.

That was one of the reasons Lisa never spoke about her traumas in the plane and in her house with Jackson to Cynthia. Because Cynthia had trauma too, even if it was different, Lisa could tell she was changed by the experience. They each had different scars, and they were silently healing together.

Cynthia's phone buzzed I her hand.

She put it to her ear, smiling.

"Hey, babe," she answered it. Her face quickly fell.

"Wait-Jerry slow down-what?" Lisa took a few steps toward Cynthia, whose mouth was hanging open. _What is it?_ She mouthed at her friend.

"Jerry and Sid were in a car accident-Sid is hurt," Cynthia told Lisa worriedly, her little face all scrunched up.

"Is he okay?" Lisa gaped, trying desperately not to be relieved.

"Nothing serious, but he's in the hospital." Cynthia turned off her phone and threw it into her purse. "I guess you're off the hook. Well, I should get down there."

"Should I…I mean-" _-am I obligated to go, too?_

No, no. You're good. You don't have to." Lisa ignored the enormous amount of weight that disappeared from her shoulders and reminded herself to be worried about her blind date.

"Hey, don't you take this back," Cynthia said, stopping her, and gesturing towards the dress.

"Uh…why?" Lisa asked her.

"Because you look beautiful in it, and there's no reason to. Just keep it," Cynthia's eyes pleaded.

"Fine." Lisa agreed, and made to hug her goodbye.

Into her hair, Cynthia mumbled, "and please, for me, Lees-Lisa, just buy yourself a pretty dress once in a while."

Lisa rolled her eyes. "I'll try."

She would have stayed longer but a flash of blue eyes and a cold airplane-bathroom flared in her mind and she felt the uneasy creeping feeling of someone watching her.

She detached herself and sped away in the opposite direction.

Lisa drove in silence, her mind wandering. She shifted in the dress-she had thought about waiting before Cynthia left and then returning it when she was out of sight, but she knew she would have found out eventually.

Through the palm trees every now and then she thought she saw a man in suit and tie staring at her through the leaves, but when she blinked he'd disappear.

Each time she sped up slightly and forced her thoughts back to where they were before.

What a strange day it had been, Lisa thought. Gone out at lunchtime with her employee for a 15 minute shopping excursion-something she would never have dreamed of doing.

But admittedly it had been fun, and she enjoyed hanging out with Cynthia. Cynthia understood her, she didn't judge her. She pushed her to better herself, but she didn't try to change her, and Lisa loved how normal she made her feel-when everyone else fussed about her as if she was a wounded soldier back from battle.

Lisa stopped her car abruptly. She blanched as she stared forward.

In her thoughts she hadn't noticed which way she'd turned, and she had found herself now in front of her own apartment. She had driven there out of habit. Her father's house was now 20 minutes away.

Lisa groaned and turned the car around.


	4. Chapter 4

When she arrived at her father's house, it was already late afternoon. The sun was seated low in the sky and the clouds were lovely shade of golden pink.

The house was dark and still. She pulled into the driveway slowly, the flowers seemed to droop slightly. The air in the car became thick and she suddenly longed to be free of it, but when she opened the door and stepped out, the air became cold and nippy, chilling beneath her skin. She shivered, and not from the cold.

"Dad," she called too softly for him to have heard. She fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the front door. It creaked uncomfortably and closed with a loud _click_. "Dad?"

Sunlight dripped lazily into the room, speckles of it splattering the floor and walls.

But as Lisa looked closer, she realized it was not just sunlight that littered the room. Not just sunlight warming her feet as it seemed through the thing material of her sandals.

Lisa reached down with frozen fingers and touched her shoe. She brought her finger up to her face as slow as her shaking hand would allow. She had not breathed since she walked through the front door.

Blood. Wet, thick, warm and red. Lisa's heart stopped.

 _No._

She might have said it out loud. But she didn't think so. Her voice had been shoved deep into her throat and balled up into a rock, clogging her breathing. Every swallow was a nightmare.

" _Dad..._ " She whispered one last time before she turned the corner into the kitchen-knowing that what may lie there might ruin be the most horrific sight she could ever see. Might ruin her life. She wanted to close her eyes and wake up. Because surely. Surely this was one of her dreams. Surely fate would not be so cruel and ironic.

Never again. Over and over again she'd said it. And over and over again she's say it now. _Please_ , never again.

Her father lay in a bed of blood under the counter. He looked like he might have been sleeping. Serene and at peace, with the sunlight dancing on his cold face, glistening on the red liquid covering him.

Lisa may have screamed. Or not. She may have knelt over him on the floor and sobbed on her father' still chest. Or perhaps not that either.

Perhaps she just stood there in the doorway for a while, her eyes burning but not one tear ever falling. She did not feel devastated or hurt. Nor was she disturbed.

She felt destroyed. Defeated. She wanted to shout out at whatever God above thought He was funny.

She was thinking about never again.

She was thinking about crying on a plane, begging-demanding that her father may live. Risking her life so that he may.

Risking the life of a famous politician and his family.

Risking everything, so that her father may live another day.

A few months. Just a few fucking months after all that-he dies. He's killed, in fact. Because another sick son of a bitch pulled the rug out from under her feet.

 _Call the police, Lisa. Call the police. Stand up straight, square your shoulders, stop looking at it. He's gone._

Lisa wavered. She could not breathe. She couldn't. As hard as she tried the air would not fill her lungs not could she release any. She couldn't move either. And every blink felt Earth shattering.

Cold. So cold. She felt like an avalanche was crashing down on her, a blizzard raging in her bones.

 _Breathe. Snap out of it. Call the police._

A flash of darkness drew away her attention. Her neck snapped away from the bloody scene and she winced as she fixed herself on the nearest window.

Faster than before, although her limbs had turned to jelly, she scrambled out the front door and ran in the direction she thought the darkness had gone.

The bushes on the side of her house rustled audibly. She crept towards them, all the while visions of Jackson and her father lying cold clouded her senses.

The uneasy sensation was pulsing through her harder and clearer than it ever had. Violently, it took hold of her. She knew. She could tell. She was close to him. Somehow, someway...she could feel him.

Before she would have run away as fast as she could, terror stricken. But now, as rage and loss battled inside her heart, she realized this whole time, she hadn't ever been running for herself.

She hadn't ever been crying or shaking or coughing up tears in an airplane toilet for herself. It had always been her father. The threat of her father's life had turned her into a useless little girl.

But when he'd come to her house, when she'd moved her father and knew he'd be safe, when she'd clutched her old cane and readied herself to strike-she had not been afraid at all. And she was not afraid now.

They'd taken everything from her. Whoever they may be. She had nothing to lose now. If she was crazy, if the darkness she chased was just the projection of her nightmares, so be it. She would lose her mind before she lived out her days afraid and grieving. And if she was not-if a killer lurked nearby and she chased death, then so be that too.

She slid between the neighboring houses and scrambled through the prickly rose bushes, a figure in suit just feet away.

"Hey," Lisa said sharply, powerfully. The figure seemed to stiffen-and then broke out into a run.

So she did as well.

By this point her dress was in rags and her calves were bleeding from thorns and sharp leaves-but she didn't care.

She pushed her legs as fast as yet could move once they were through the right place between houses. As she pushed through she found herself in a fenced off area, a little gate closing her off to her neighbors backyard. She was alone.

She knew her prey had to have jumped the fence, so she braced herself for an ungraceful maneuver.

She gripped the top of the fence and heaved herself over it, landing flat on her side on a pile of leaves. Her hands had splinters wedged into their creased. The ache was drowned by her pounding heart and the sickness in her stomach.

Inside her neighbor's backyard now, she pulled herself up and looked around. The fence was high around the entire backyard. Very high. There was no escape.

Lisa breathed deeply. Something glinted out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to see a large root hook glinting in the last light of the afternoon sun. She reached over and wrapped her splintered hands around it, raising it over her right shoulder in a batting stance as she crept around the back of the house.

She did not shake or tremble. She was steady, smooth-every step deliberate and calculating.

Her heart leaped as she heard the sound of water hitting the side of the house. She could barely see a green hose coiled up on the side of the house like a giant snake, but anything beyond that was blocked from her view. She looked ahead. Before her was grass and a few small, decorative trees, a bench and a fish pond. There was absolutely nowhere to hide.

Her vision snapped to something creeping from behind the trees. Her breathing hitched.

Her heartbeat slowed as a small black cat with flashing yellow eyes slid around the base of the tree that stared her down.

She sighed inwardly. Just a cat-

But the cat was staring at something else now. Staring, with its hackles raised and claws out. Peering right around the side of the house, where the hose was.

Her eyes slid to where the cats were as she side stepped closer, her back against the house.

Another step-she heard someone else's step further away. One more step-she was so close now-and another light step sounded from around the bend.

 _Okay. Just do it. Strike. You are the attacker. You are the predator. They should be afraid. Not you._

 _5-_ One more small step.

 _4_ -She raised the root hook higher.

 _3_ -A long, deep breath.

 _2_ -This is for you, dad.

 _1_ -She sprang around the bend and slammed her tool down-on a man in suit, with ruffled brown hair and terror stricken face with sunken cheeks and wise blue eyes. He yelled out as she came crashing down on her-causing her to scream as well.

She roared as she attacked, madly and sloppily, before he grabbed the tool out of her hands and flung it across the yard. He slammed her body into the side of the house by her wrists, and she used her legs to knee him between the legs. He cursed loudly in her ear and winced as she untangled herself and used the opportunity she had been given to rake her nails across his neck down to his chest-when she retracted her fingers were bloody.

The moment she took to gawk at her fingers had cost her. He sent a hard kick into her ribs that sent her flying to the ground. She cried out-but before she could make another move the man was down on his knees with a hand wrapped around her mouth. She struggled for a moment before she heard the sound of voices coming from inside the house.

"I don't know, I thought heard the cat or something," said a woman's voice from inside. Lisa heard the sound of a door opening and then closing. The woman-her neighbor, whom she'd never bothered to get to know-was outside with them.

"Joffrey? You okay boy?" The woman's sweet voice sounded close, causing Lisa's fists and toes to curl.

She wondered why she wasn't screaming. She wasn't a trespasser. She was a victim. A man had her pinned to the ground. He father was dead-murdered-Lisa was sure of it.

But for some reason, she kept still and quiet.

The cat-Joffrey-was staring straight at them. She willed it to look away, but its focus would not be broken.

"Whatcha staring at, Joffrey?" Her neighbor's voice sounded even closer now, causing Lisa to jump out of her skin. The man above her squeezed her still, his weight crushing her. She shuddered into him.

By now, she already knew who it was. Somehow. It was him. Back from the dead.

She didn't know what to believe anymore. But she did know that there was nothing she wouldn't believe at this point, including this. That Jackson was alive.

And had just killed her father.

Her blood boiled as she shifted, ever so slightly and painfully slow, and took in his face.

He looked different than before. Thinner and gaunter, though stronger judging by their fight a few minutes before. His jaw was more defined, his eyes angrier. There was light stubble on his cheeks.

There were memories of Jackson that Lisa hadn't locked away in her mind only to be unleashed in her dreams.

There were a few memories of Jackson that remained simple and strange, memories of drinking at the airport bar and laughing and awkward jokes and flirting...a little bit of flirting, though mostly just chatting.

She'd thought he was pretty attractive in those memories. She wretched inwardly. Still, this close to him, she was forced to notice that he was even more than before. His hair was different. Messier but less dorky. He looked more grown up.

His eyes which were glued upward to the unseen woman and tattle-take cat, flicked down to her suddenly. Chills slithered down her spine as he took her in.

She willed herself to calm down. For her mind to stop spinning.

 _You. It was you. You killed him_.

It might not have been.

 _For what? For revenge?_

It might not have been him.

 _You died. My father killed you._

 _Lisa, shhh_ , his eyes seemed to say. He brought a finger to his lips, their faces so close that it rested on her lips as well. She closed her open mouth and let the questioning expression fall from her face and morph into something like hatred.

Joffrey lost interest and stalked away, finally. Her neighbor walked back inside and shut the door. Lisa and Jackson both released a synchronized breath of relief.

She glared up at him.

" _How_?" She asked.

He glared back down. "Are you surprised to see me, Lees?"

The sound of his voice rattled her bones and the name made her flinch hard enough to cause pain in her ribs where he'd kicked her. Fireworks exploded in her brain and her eyes burned.

Jackson smiled. "Aw, you know, the last time we were this close-"

"You threw me over my banister and watched me roll down the stairs," she finished for him.

"Actually, I was going to say you called me 'pathetic'. But that too I guess," he shrugged off of her and pulled her onto her knees.

"How?" She asked again. He back faced her as he stood.

"We have to get out of here," he mumbled. "We can-"

"Did you kill my father?" Lisa interrupted, speaking with a deadly calm.

He turned to face her. "So he's gone."

She cocked her head to the side in answer, her right eye finally releasing a drop of water that darted to her chin as soon as it left her eye.

"That explains a lot," he mused, fumbling with his suit and touching his neck and chest where red, fleshy, fresh skin was visible and clotted with blood.

"Did. You. Kill. Him." She said through her teeth.

"No. Let's go." He took her arm and crouched forward, tugging her as he scrambled to the other side of the house to the shorter fence. He jumped over it first, and it sounded like he landed as sloppily as she had by the curse he let loose on the other side. As she heaved herself up and over, she landed in his arms, and he kept her upright in a gentlemanly fashion. She would have rolled her eyes if not for the circumstances.

"Who killed my father, if not you?" She said as squeezed through the houses and onto the driveway.

"Someone like me," he answered her. "But not me," he added pointlessly.

"Who?" She pushed.

"A man in my department. Your father was a target. He was assigned to me but I refused," he spoke quickly and quietly, his eyes darting around.

Lisa closed her eyes. "What-why would my father be a target...please tell me this doesn't have to do with me."

"Of course it does." He said simply, his voice coated in darkness.

She felt like throwing up. She found herself sitting on the ground, curled into a ball.

"Get up." He said harshly.

But she couldn't.

Jackson stomped over to her and kneeled in front of her. He took her face in his hands and squeezed her cheeks together like she was a child. She thought about spitting in his face.

"Lees, do you remember when I taught you to bottle up those emotions? Well, it's time to do that again. Do you think you can do that for me?" He asked her mockingly.

She looked up at him slowly, her eyes gleaming.

"Or what, my dad dies? Well guess what, he's already gone. You have no leverage over me. You can't walk on me like you could on the plane. I don't have to listen to a word you say," she spat.

"Fair enough," he said with a grin. "How about a trade, then? Suck it up and come with me for all the answers you want."

"Come with you where?"

"We have to run. Someone is after you. You're going to, despite your better judgment, have to trust me." He added a lazy smile after this that made her want to hurl, but she stood anyways.

"What about my dad? I can't just...I have to call-"

"The police can't help you. My people have set up you up. Call the police and you'll be turning yourself in," he said.

"My God," she breathed into her hands. "Oh my God..."

"No time for that," he said, slipping his hand over hers and rubbing it slightly-she assumed to make her uncomfortable or anger her. She did not give him the satisfaction of yanking her hand back.

"If they're your people-why on Earth would I go anywhere with you?" She demanded, wiping at her face with her other hand, her voice shaking.

"Like I said, you're just going to have to trust me. By the way," he said as he broke out into a trot down the street as he gripped her hand. "This dress-" he gestured to it, "I like. Did you wear it for me?"

She made a face and he chuckled. "Good color on you."


	5. Chapter 5

They were running to a coffee shop, Lisa decided. She had thought he'd bring her to some kind of public place, possibly a restaurant, but one where you could still hear yourself think. She's almost been tempted to recommend the coffee shop, but had thought better of it.

But by now she could tell where they were headed. She was relieved it was just a coffee shop, close by and familiar.

As they headed towards it, Lisa murmured, "where the hell did you come from, Jack?"

She got a very strange satisfaction out of watching him flinch at the nickname. He turned away from her then, like it might have embarrassed him. She smirked humorlessly.

"I don't remember my Lees ever using such language," he dodged the question smoothly.

"I don't remember my Jack being alive."

He looked at her then, a hint of a smile on his lips, a mix of confusion and surprise on his face.

"You are very different than I remember." He said simply.

"You are, too. I'm not really getting any psychopath vibes from this conversation," she said casually.

"Yes well, considering how I spent my day, you'd think I was some kind of hero." He replied.

"And how did you spend your day, Jack? Running about, saving innocent lives from bad men such as yourself?" Lisa asked as he pushed her through the doors of the coffee shop.

"Tried to." He slid into a table and she hesitantly took the seat in front of him.

"Aw, you're so far away. I'm used to you right by my side," he said smiling. "What a cozy-"

"Shut up," Lisa said sharply, as an array of memories flashed before her eyes. She closed them, but the visions were still there.

He raised his eyebrows, the smile not leaving his face.

Still an asshole, she thought. Not that much had changed.

"Would you like some coffee, sweetie? It's on me," he offered jeeringly.

"Just fuck off and answer my goddamn questions," she said, her patience running thin.

"You'd never expect such a clean and polished woman to have such a dirty, dirty mouth," he replied, testing her limits, his mouth quirked to the side. "What is it you'd like to know?"

"Everything. Starting with what happened to my dad."

"Sure. Right after I get a coffee-"

"Jackson." To her shock, he actually say back down. She tried to look entitled to his respect, instead of dumbfounded that he'd even listened to her.

Jackson was still smiling lightly, but the smile did not meet his eyes as he began.

"You really think that those who wanted Keefe dead stopped wanting him dead just because I failed? No, there was still a job to do. My people do not leave loose ends. Your father was a loose end. Along with you and the Keefes."

Lisa's knuckles whitened as she gripped the table.

"Are you telling me that your people killed my father just because...why even, I don't even understand-it's ridiculous. It feels like revenge."

"I told them everything you just said," he said.

"You said that you were assigned to kill him, but you refused." Lisa put two and two together.

"Right."

"Because you thought it was stupid."

He hesitated slightly, his eyes darting to his twitching fingers.

"Yes...and...And it just seemed..." He trailed off.

He didn't finish, only shrugged and went on.

"You were a liability. And after...everything...they think you're dangerous." Lisa tried not to smile.

"I never stopped watching you. I knew your every move before you made it. I watched you neatly every day. Sometimes you saw me, sometimes I let you," he said, watching Lisa's face closely. She did not let her emotions show.

He'd let her think she was going crazy. Still, knowing she actually wasn't was enough to make her sag in relief.

"We scheduled it when we knew you'd be out with Cynthia and your dates."

Lids gaped. "How did you even know about that? I didn't even know about that!"

"Didn't I tell you I know every move you're gonna make before you make it? Anyways, I watch Cynthia, too, of course. Anyone and everyone with any relation to you," he explained.

"They'd come for you soon enough. I'm not sure when, they wouldn't tell me when." He said quickly, like it was eating away at him.

"Why?" She asked softly.

"They'd never tell me anything about you. About their plans for you. I guess they thought...I might have some weird reaction, or I might mess things up if I try to stop it." He didn't look at her. Lisa sat back in her chair, thinking.

There was a long silence that followed this, until Lisa gently urged him to go on.

"Everything was going great until today, and I just, I mean, I didn't have anything to do with it, because I'd already refused and someone else had taken the job. But I guess, I just, had some sort of breakdown...and I couldn't let them kill him. Or you." Once again, he would not meet her eyes. The muscles in his cheek flexed as he waited for her reaction.

She almost smiled, that a moral dilemma could only be classified as a 'breakdown' for Jackson. Like it was some kind of illness-to want to do the right thing.

"So then...?"

"So I tracked down Cynthia's boyfriend and his friend-your date, and ran their car into a ditch. I thought if the date was canceled, I hoped you would go home early before they did it. I knew if they wouldn't attack him if you were there, too. Like I said, you're a liability."

Lisa fidgeted in her seat. There was a fan directly above her, chilling her to the bone. She had begun to shake like a leaf, whether it was because of the cold or because she knew how Jackson's story was headed and the ending was near, she did not know.

"Your people overestimate me." She said softly.

"Yes," he smiled gently. "But you underestimate yourself."

They locked eyes for a few seconds before he continued.

"I don't know what happened, but you didn't go back to your father's house. You were driving in the opposite direction. I was following you-I even got out of my car at one point, trying to scare you into driving back towards your father's house." Lisa's heart cracked, but she remained still.

"By the time I went back your father's house, you had already found him and-and I was going to run but...well, you know," He finished quietly.

"No, I don't," Lisa said stiffly, her eyes wet with tears. "I don't understand. I don't understand why you really tried to save him, I don't understand what I'm doing here with you, I don't understand what your people want with me-and I don't understand why you're helping me. And then, after all is said and done, there is silk the question of whether or not I should believe anything you say."

He sighed. "I told you why I tried to save him, what you're doing where with me is you are hiding out until I have a plan, my people want to kill you, and I'm helping you because...because I am. So believe me, because I'm on your side."

Lisa shook her head. "That's not good enough."

"It will have to be for now," he said.

"You said we're hiding out until you have a plan. Explain that statement-for now." She commanded.

"This was a bit of a last second decision. I saw him dead and I thought, well that's it then, I failed. And I left. But you chased me down, and I looked at you, and I remembered you, and I knew you would not let me get away. So I decided to help you. Decided to try and save you. Because, for some reason, today I am a good guy. And now we're here." His eyes shined with honesty she'd never seen, but it didn't keep her from snorting bitterly.

"Such a good guy. Yet you still spied on me, reported when I'd be gone to your people, and you chose to cause two innocent people to get into an accident so you could trick me into facing the danger head on, on a hunch that your people would call it off and not just kill both of us. You chose to do that, instead of actually saving my father. With your own two hands." Jackson stilled and opened his mouth to defend himself but she went on. "But no. You would never do that. You'd never get your hands dirty like that. Because you are a pathetic coward. It's why you refused to kill my father yourself."

Jackson flexed his jaw, staring her down. "I did get my hands dirty once. And you called me pathetic then too." He remarked.

"At least you weren't a coward," she said. He swallowed visibly, in anger, she thought.

"Do you have any idea how much doing even what I did for your father cost me? For what I'm doing for you know?"

"I don't care. It doesn't change the fact that he's dead."

Neither spoke for a long time. Eventually, Jackson did purchase a coffee, and sipped it thoughtfully. She was deathly thirsty but far too prideful to ask him to buy her one, so she put a straw in his and he didn't stop her from drinking it. After a few times of watching Lisa lean into sip from the straw just as he raised the cup to his lips, he got a stray for himself and slid it in so they could sip it at the same time.


End file.
